Chapter 168 Lilian Baker

Chapter 168 Lilian Baker
I never imagined I would spend the night in Andrew's aunt's house.

The guest room was warm and inviting. A soft cream duvet covered the neatly made bed, and a small lamp on the bedside table filled the room with a gentle amber glow. Outside the window, I could still hear water dripping from the roof, but thankfully, the rain itself had stopped.

Somehow, that made me feel lighter.

Sabrina had insisted I rest because the fitting would happen first thing in the morning. Sam had even brought me another mug of hot chocolate before disappearing downstairs with a cheerful reminder that I was "officially family for the night."

They were kind.

A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly and Andrew stepped inside.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

I nodded. "I'm okay."

He looked around the room before pulling the chair beside the bed a little closer.

"Mind if I stay for a bit?"

I shook my head. "I don't mind."

He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

After everything that had happened that evening, it felt nice to simply exist in the same room without arguing.

"So..." I said, folding my legs beneath the blanket. "Did you know about the modelling?"

“No,” he immediately shook his head. "I thought we were actually coming to pick something up."

"So did I."

"I think my mum tricked both of us."

I smiled. "I think you're right."

Another comfortable silence settled between us.

Andrew focused on his phone while I absentmindedly traced circles on the edge of the blanket.

"So..." I started again. "Did you really hate the hot chocolate?"

He looked offended.

"I drank all of it."

"You complained the whole time."

"I can complain and still enjoy it."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

I laughed. "No, it doesn't."

"It does in my head."

"I should be worried about your head."

That made him laugh.

I laughed too.

Then we talked about the little girl who had peeked at me before running away every time I smiled.

Apparently, her name was Emma.

"She's shy,” Andrew explained.

"But tomorrow she'll probably ask you fifty questions."

"I'll be ready."

"You won't."

I looked down at my hands.

There was something sitting heavily on my chest. Something I'd wanted to ask for days. Maybe weeks.
If I didn't ask tonight, I wasn't sure I'd ever find the courage again.

"Andrew?"

"Yes"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You already are."

I smiled faintly. "You know what I mean."

He nodded. "Go ahead."

I took a slow breath.

"Why didn't you ever mention what happened at camp?"

His smile disappeared and the room suddenly felt quieter.

He looked away from me. "I didn't think there was a reason to."

"There was."

"You kissed me?" he said it like he was asking a question.

"You pulled away and you avoided the conversation about it. I didn't understand."

Andrew didn't interrupt me.

"So..." I swallowed. "Why?"

He stared at the floor for several seconds before answering.

"Because there was no point."

"No point?"

He finally looked up. "There's no point dwelling on something that won't work."

His words landed like stones in my chest.

"How do you know it won't work?"

"I just do."

"No,” I shook my head. "That's not an answer."

"It is."

"It isn't."

"You don't know the future."

"I know enough."

"Enough about what?"

He sighed quietly.

"Lily..."

"No,” I interrupted. "Please, just answer honestly."

He looked exhausted.

Not physically, but emotionally as if every word cost him something.

"I am answering honestly."

"You aren't." I met his eyes. "You keep deciding for both of us."

He didn't respond.

"You keep saying what can't happen. You never say what you want."

He didn't respond.

My heart pounded loudly inside my chest.

There was one question left. The one I'd been terrified to ask.

If I didn't ask now, I'd spend the rest of my life wondering.

I forced myself to speak. "Do you..." I hesitated. "Like me?"

His eyes widened slightly.

I hurried to soften the question.

"I don't mean… I mean..." I laughed nervously. "Even if it's just one percent, do you?"

He didn't answer immediately.

I looked away first.

Of course, this was another rejection. Another moment where I'd misunderstood everything.

I should've kept quiet.

I should've…

"Lily,” his voice stopped my thoughts.

I looked back at him.

He wasn't looking away anymore.

"I do."

"What?"

"I like you."

The words were simple and quiet, but they completely stole the air from my lungs.

For a moment, I couldn't even process what I'd heard.

He continued before I could say anything.

"I've been trying very hard not to." A sad smile appeared on his face. "But pretending otherwise would just be another lie."

I stared at him.

"You..."

He nodded once. "I like you. I don't know when it started. I don't even know how. But somewhere along the way..." He let out a tired breath. "You became important."

I felt my heart race again. Not from panic this time, but from hope.

Then his expression changed and the sadness returned.

"But what happens next?"

"What do you mean?"

"What exactly are we supposed to do with that?"

He spread his hands helplessly.

"I'm your teacher. People already gossip about us because we're neighbours. My younger brother…" He stopped himself briefly before continuing. "My younger brother is your boyfriend."

"It's fake."

"I know it's fake." His voice remained calm. "But the rest of the world doesn't."

He looked down at his hands. "And even if Lewis didn't exist…” he gave a humourless laugh. "I'd still be your teacher."

The words hurt because they were true.

"There are lines I can't cross,” he continued quietly. "There are responsibilities I can't ignore. If I choose my feelings, I’d lose everything I've worked for. And if I don't..." he smiled sadly. "I’ll still lose something."

I wanted to argue… to tell him we'd find a way… to say love should matter more. But every reason he gave made painful sense.

He stood slowly from the chair. For a second, I thought he might leave without another word.

Instead, he walked to the side of the bed. He gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face.

The gesture was so brief it almost felt imagined.

"You deserve someone who can choose you without hesitation,” his voice was barely above a whisper. "Someone who doesn't have to weigh every feeling against responsibility."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

He stepped back.

"So..." He forced a small smile. "Have fun with Lewis."

The sentence caught me completely off guard.

I stared at him with my eyes wide open.

"What?"

"I'm done complaining,” he shrugged lightly. "If pretending to date him helps you, I won't stand in the way anymore."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You were angry every day."

"I was."

"And now?"

He looked at me with a tenderness that somehow hurt more than his anger ever had.

"Now I understand that my anger changes nothing. I won't make things harder for either of you."